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He walked me to the car with a hand to my back, helping me in. As we drove to the restaurant, conversation came surprisingly easy. We spoke about anything and everything. He told me he was a pasta addict. I told him about the time I once fought a four-year-old at a birthday party for the last cake-pop.

Don’t worry. I won.

I noticed the area we were driving through and something inside of me started tightening. The car came to a stop and I blanched, noticing the restaurant we were parked at was only two blocks away from Quinn’s apartment building.  Unease swept over me. The chances of seeing Quinn were slim-to-none. I needed to stop worrying and concentrate on my date.

Kit took my hand in his as we walked into Mama Cavella’s for what Kit promised to be the best Italian food I’d ever eaten. I teased and told him he’d pay if it wasn’t. He just grinned and wiggled his brows. I flushed, turning to hide my smile.

Why was this date going so well? Dammit.

I wouldn’t admit it, but I hoped it would be terrible and I would just resign myself to the fact I was not meant to date, leaving me in my bubble of happiness with Quinn, where we never spoke about his work and we just continued being ourselves, having a great friendship with a side of amazing sex.

We placed our orders with the waitress. I ordered the penne carbonara. Kit ordered the lamb and spinach lasagna with a salad. My brain tingled when he asked for no onion on the salad. Was that a hint? Was Kit going to kiss me at the end of the night? Maybe he just didn’t like onion in his salad. I wasn’t sure.

When our meals arrived, Kit watched me take the first bite of my meal with a wide smile. As soon as the pasta hit my tongue, I groaned in bliss. “God, this is good.”

“Not good,”—Kit winked—“the best. They make all the pasta in house.”

We ate, chatting through our meals, telling each other about college and work. It was nice. I haven’t felt comfortable with a single heterosexual male since…well…Quinn, but although Kit was nice, I didn’t feel that something extra. The spark was missing, and I knew where I could find it. My spark was lost to me, hidden in Quinn’s smile.

After our meal, I declined dessert and Kit paid the bill, even though I insisted on paying my share. He wouldn’t have it. He was a gentleman to the core.  I was sure he’d find the girl he deserved, but as we approached the car, I quickly realized that girl wouldn’t be me.

We drove back to my apartment in comfortable silence, and when Kit took my hand, I didn’t object. We entered the lobby and walked down the hall to my apartment. When my eyes locked on the person standing outside of my apartment door, his hand raised to knock, my stomach sank.

Quinn turned just in time to see Kit and I approach hand-in-hand. A flurry of emotions passed over his face—confusion, realization, disbelief, and then anger. The way he looked at me scared me. I’d never seen Quinn like that before. It was chilling.

He walked down the hall to meet us, and I quickly dropped Kit’s hand. Quinn talked as he joined us, his words said slowly, carefully. “So, this is where you were tonight? On a date?” He shook his head and cursed. “Seriously, Mia?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

Kit cut in with, “I’m Kit. And you are?”

Quinn curled his lip at Kit and muttered a grating, “The guy she’s f—” I closed my eyes, praying for him not to finish that sentence. To my surprise, he amended his track of words, glaring at me all the while. “We’re seeing each other.”

Kit sounded surprised. “Mia, is this true?”

“No,” I said, but my voice shook. “It’s not true.” I turned to Quinn, seeing red. “Seeing each other implies there’s a plan to be more.”

No one spoke for a while.

Kit touched my arm, and I could see Quinn’s eyes narrow. “Maybe I should go, let you work this out with your…” he turned to face Quinn, “…friend.”

That was when Quinn spoke, his words hitting me hard. “No. I’m leaving.” He walked past us, shoved his hands into his pockets, and then turned back and smiled, cruelly. “Every trick in bed she knows because of me, buddy. Taught her myself.” My mouth parted in shock and my breath left me in a whoosh. I felt as though I would faint. Quinn turned and walked away, calling out, “You’re welcome.” Cruel, painful words from the man I loved. Our beautiful time together twisted into something filthy and lewd. Our friendship destroyed.

The door closed behind him, leaving me to stare in shock at his retreating back. My chest ached and I absently rubbed at the burn.

The moment he left, a gaping hole formed in the place my heart used to be.

Something told me I would never be the same.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Quinn

I needed to hit something, feel the pain radiate through my knuckles. Feel something.

Seeing Mia holding hands with another man, smiling after a date together, didn’t bode well. I knew the time would come, when she decided she deserved more, but I didn’t expect it so soon.

Walking into my kitchen, I opened the cabinet, pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels, and took a long pull from the bottle. My eyes shut tightly and I rubbed at my chest. I’d never felt like this before. I didn’t get jealous over women. Women got jealous over me. What the fuck was wrong with me?

My own words haunted me. “Every trick in bed she knows because of me, buddy. Taught her myself. You’re welcome.”

I groaned, crushing the heel of my palms into my eyes. I was disgusted with myself, with the way I talked to her. I’d never had such a violent reaction to a woman before. It felt as though my insides were twisting into knots.

God, I was an asshole. Why the fuck did I say that? She would never forgive me. I wouldn’t forgive me.

I brought the bottle to my lips and, taking another swig, coughed at the heat streaking down my throat. I turned, put my back against the wall, and slid down to the cold, tiled floor. I stared into the wall for a long while.

I was pretty sure I had just ruined whatever chance I might’ve had with the only woman I ever loved.

My mind worked a mile a minute. I wasn’t sure how, but I was going to fix this. I had to. Mia was my everything, and I couldn’t live without her.

I would fix this.

I would.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Mia

Mom talked about how the nice man who owned the local grocery store had a heart attack the week before, leaving his children to run it for him. They were nice kids, she said, kids who cared about their parents.

It was a stab at Harry and me, I was sure. And when Harry’s eyes met mine, he rolled them hard. Still, it wasn’t enough to make me laugh. Nothing could’ve made me laugh. I was still sore from the previous night, at Quinn’s hurtful words.

Mom wasn’t happy we only came to visit her once a week. “See,” she uttered, picking at the salad by her lasagna, “those kids know they only have so long with their parents. They know they have a duty to them,” she said in way of a guilt trip.

My heart started to pound. Mom didn’t even know what she was getting herself into.

“To go on leave from their own jobs and take care of the family business...those kids must really love their parents.”

Harry cut in. “We love you, Mom.” He grinned. “I’d take over the family business for you.” He picked at his lasagna, happy with himself. “If we had one.”

Mom shrugged then sighed. “You don’t even visit anymore. I guess my kids are just too busy for me.”

That was it. I stood so fast that my chair made a harsh whining noise, almost falling back. “Thanks for dinner, Mom. I’ve got to get going.”